


Imagine you’re a pregnant slave but you’re only 16

by imagineyourepregnant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Birth Fetish, Breeding Kink, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fpreg, Hyperpregnancy, Impregnation, Pregnant Sex, Public Birth, expansion, forced impregnation, labor fetish, multiples pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineyourepregnant/pseuds/imagineyourepregnant
Summary: You’re riding the bus, all ten babies rolling around in your womb. Your shirt barely stays on while the bus stops and starts, every rumble of the wheels over a bump causing all of your mounds to jiggle and shake.





	1. Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> (There are supposedly multiple parts to this story, however they're no longer on tumblr ): I've consolidated what remains on the site.)
> 
> Original post for this chapter: http://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/141194290645/imagine-youre-a-pregnant-slave-but-youre-only-16

You’re riding the bus, all ten babies rolling around in your womb. Your shirt barely stays on while the bus stops and starts, every rumble of the wheels over a bump causing all of your mounds to jiggle and shake. You try to hold your breasts away from your face, as their constant swelling has caused them to crowd into your vision. You press down on the tops of them with both hands, your legs splayed on the bench. Suddenly, as the bus rounds a bend, you feel a tightening in your belly.

One of the babies grows and you moan, swelling outward slightly. Then you feel a pop as your water breaks - you know this means at least one of your babies is coming. You try to labor in silence - your womb undulating before you on each contraction. They begin to get closer together but you’re still making stops, not yet near the school. The student across from you keeps giving you looks. Your water drips down the vinyl seat and onto the ground.

Your contractions are almost on top of each other now and you feel a pressure beneath your skirt.

“Nnnngh.” You’re unable to hold back your moans now, the pressure too great. You sink down in the seat so that you’re laying, your legs falling into the aisle, your great belly still moving, shifting, contracting. Your breasts rest against your chin and again you push them away to breathe. You feel hot and sweaty, your cheeks flushed and your belly dripping sweat as it contracts. 

“Nnnngnggh,” you moan again as the head pushes down, the head just now peeking out. You spread your legs as wide as you can, but you can’t even see beneath your belly as you try to give birth.

“Ewwwww,” the student across from you cries, causing all of the students to crowd around your seat. More contractions come and go - you can see your belly tighten and release, the muscles cramping down on all the excited babies. A stray, agitated kick hits up near your breasts, causing them to jiggle toward your face and you gasp. 

“Mmmmph, stop, pleasemmnnn,” you say as one student reaches out and presses into your belly, curious. This of course causes the other students to reach out, mesmerized by your shiny, pulsating belly. 

Another contraction occurs and you cry out, feeling the baby’s head slip out beneath your skirt. You can only just barely slide your underwear off, the tips of your fingers only just reaching around your laboring belly. You groan and huff, pushing it down to your ankles and kicking them off. You push again but there is no movement.

The bus pulls up to school and you are forgotten, the students filing off the bus. Several more contractions occur and you can’t move.

“Hey, you back there,” the bus driver yells, “get off the bus!“ 

You grasp the top of the seat, your belly still contracting and your baby half out of you and push yourself to your feet. Your belly hangs low and you crouch in the back of the bus, but there is still no movement. You hear the first bell ring and drag yourself to the front of the bus, waddling into the courtyard as best you can, legs wide due to the baby between them.

You barely make it to the flag pole before you have to push again, grasping the flag pole with both hands. You crouch down again, leaning over and causing your belly button to brush the sidewalk. Finally the shoulders pop free. But the late bell rings - you’re going to be late for your first class.

"Aagh,” you cry out, waddling, your belly swaying from side to side, both hands on your back, your breasts arched upward and barely contained in your shirt, just trying to get to first period.

Another contraction hits you just as you’re about to enter the room. You can’t resist- you crouch down again, hands on a locker, and push. The baby slides free and cries. You grab it from the ground, cutting the cord.

You see your teacher is about to lock the door - you can’t be late for class again. You push through the door, the squealing baby balanced atop your still huge belly. The teacher looks annoyed that you’re late and you find your way to the back of the class. The baby cries and you pull down your shirt. It latches onto your tit, the other one leaking milk. 

The teacher begins to lecture, giving you looks from the front of the class. You realize he looks… hungry for you. You sweat, the baby feasting on your breast as the other one leaks down your still bare belly. You know your shirt must be completely see-through now. You can only sit sideways in your chair, your belly sticking outward and still the constant movement. 

You hold your child with one hand and try to take notes with the other, all the while sweating as you arbitrarily swell, each baby growing, getting closer to delivery. When the bell finally rings and the students file out, you’re too weak to stand. You’ve also swollen so much that you’re basically stuck in the chair, your legs splayed and your belly resting between them.

Your teacher sidles over to you.

“Late again,” he tsks. 

“Sorry, ssirnghh,” you say, just as another kick right near your belly button. The skins wells out and returns to shape.

“Active, aren’t they?” he says. “You know I’ll have to punish you because you were late again.”

Your baby starts to cry, unlatching itself from your breast. Your teacher grabs him, placing him in a coat and on top of the teachers desk. You squirm, trying to get out of the desk, to no avail. He comes back over to you and yanks, pulling you from the chair with a gasp. 

He grabs your free breast, pulling on the nipple until you leak milk again. You moan against him, partly aroused but just feeling so  _full._ He leans you over so that your breasts lay flat and pillowing against the student desk, your huge belly below it. You can barely breathe at that angle, your belly so big it nearly brushes the floor. 

He lifts up your skirt, smacking your pussy that has just given birth. The pills the brothers give you cause your pussy to go back to its original size right after birth so that they never have to suffer from a stretched out hole.

He fingers you and you hear him unzipping his pants. He enters you in one smooth motion and you gasp, holding onto the desk as he fucks you thoroughly. He comes in you not once, not twice, but three times. 

“Hah,, hah, mm, hah,” you gasp as he pulls out of you, pressing into both sides of your belly as you swell to a greater size. 

By the third time, you are barely holding on the desk, your belly so swollen that you rest against it. You know you’re stuck here until you give birth to at least a few of the babies, you’re so big you can’t even move. He smacks your ass again as you clutch your belly, the movement beneath you so hectic you can barely take a breath before you feel a kick again.

The baby on the desk is crying now. He brings it over. Your belly is so big now he can rest the baby on top of it for him to eat.

“Guess you’re going to have to stay here in detention for a bit,” he says. “I’ll let your next class know. You moan, delirious and full beneath your masses. Milk leaking down your boulder-sized belly. You clutch it desperately, begging for birth. After twenty minutes of constant slow but steady swelling, constant pressure, constant lactation, you finally feel a contraction. 


	2. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You clutch your belly as the contractions continue. There are so many babies in your womb that you can’t tell where the kicks end and the contractions start. You’ve already given birth to two babies, and as the bell rings signaling the end of class you’re pushing out a third. The students file out of the classroom while you moan, writhing around on the ground as yet another baby drops into your birth canal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Part 3 no longer exists ): )
> 
> Original post: http://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/142205401125/imagine-youre-a-pregnant-slave-but-youre-only-16

You clutch your belly as the contractions continue. There are so many babies in your womb that you can’t tell where the kicks end and the contractions start. You’ve already given birth to two babies, and as the bell rings signaling the end of class you’re pushing out a third. The students file out of the classroom while you moan, writhing around on the ground as yet another baby drops into your birth canal.

Your breasts are slowly swelling, leaking milk onto the ground as you begin to crown. Behind you, several babies cry, wanting milk. Your teacher picks two of them up and brings them round, attaching both to your breasts as you try to push out hopefully the last child.

“Nnngh,” you moan again, pushing on another contraction. He cups your sensitive breast and you hiss, just the slightest amount of pressure causing the heavy globes to swell further. He puts his thumb in your mouth as you gasp, sweat rolling down your temple. The shoulders seem to be stuck - you keep pushing harder but they won’t budge.

“You’re going to be late for your next class,” he says, pulling his thumb out between your moans of pain. He grabs your hands and lifts you to your feet, holding the two babies against your breast. You have to bend your knees, keeping your legs wide as the baby sits, half out of you, between them.

“Go to your next class or I will be forced to write you up.” He pushes you out the door and you waddle to your next class, the baby between your legs desperately needing to come out. The head barely peeks out beneath your skirt, and you hold the other two babies to your breasts as you try to cross the campus.

The other students jostle around you, staring at your huge, contracting belly as they pass. You move as quickly as possible, but the constant kicks and contractions keep you moving at a slow pace. You barely make it to your next class in advance of the late bell, and you shuffle in, trying to keep your moaning and groaning quiet, perched at a desk in the back.

You spread your legs wide, leaning half out of the chair and try to push again, though the shoulders are still stuck. The teacher quiets the class down and you sit there aching,doing your best to stay quiet while still swelling all over. You put the two babies down on the desk, placing both hands on your contracting belly and pushing from the top.

“Nnnnnngah” you can’t resist crying out, throwing your head back and pushing as the baby finally slips out. The whole class turns around and stares at you, rolling their eyes and turning back to the teacher.

You soothe the crying baby with one hand, attempting to tend to the other babies with your other hand and take notes at the same time. Every five or ten minutes you feel your belly swelling larger, your skin nearly squeaking. You rub the parts of it you can reach, at least six or seven babies rolling actively inside of you. Your entire belly is marred with movement, a kick to the top of your belly, a swell at the bottom.

You clutch the skin, leaving indents as you attempt to breathe through the swelling. Somehow, you manage to get through the class without anything major happening. Though by the end of the hour period, you’ve swollen so much that you’re barely able to stand. You gather up the babies and push yourself from the desk, a kick landing so hard near your lungs that it knocks the wind out of you.

You waddle to the main office, needing to take breaks along the way to regain your breath. You’re able to leave your babies with the nurse and waddle quickly away, tying your button down shirt beneath your breasts to give at least a bit of support to your heavy breasts, still leaking milk.

You stop near the restroom, feeling a growth spurt coming on. You try to stay standing but you’re unable to, sinking down to the ground beneath the lockers as your belly swells outward before your very eyes, growing so large that it rests on the ground between your legs and reaches your ankles. You moan, rubbing the taut skin as your breasts swell to match. The late bell rings but you’re unable to get up from your position, seeming to swell another inch at every exhale.

When you’re about to pull yourself into a standing position, five or six senior boys come out of the boys bathroom, looking at you in disgust. They stand around you.

“What a slut,” they say to each other. “I heard she fucked a teacher this morning.”

The heave you up to a standing position, surrounding you on all sides.

“Why don’t you come hang out with us, slut,” they say, pulling you into the boy’s bathroom.

You couldn’t escape even if you tried, and they drag you to the last stall. They sit you down on the toilet, taking off your shirt and tying you to the metal poll behind the toilet with it, the shirt tied beneath your breasts and knotted around the poll.

You can barely move or even breathe, the shirt tied so tightly. They take turns fondling your breasts until they leak milk, rubbing your belly up and down as it swells.

“Nnngh help, me mnnn please don-nngh,” you groan as one of the boys sucks your breast into his mouth rubbing your huge belly up and down as the babies kick.

He steps back, lifting your legs up and fucking you against the toilet seat. You put one hand on the stall’s wall and the other on your undulating belly as he slams into you, your breasts slapping your face as they bounce up and down. He takes forever to come, and when he does he leaves you hiccuping and covered in cum. He stares at you as your belly swells outward, as you writhe beneath the mass. A strong kick lands right at your belly button and you throw your head back, unable to stand it as all your orbs swell.

“I think my mates all need a turn, right?” he says as another boy comes in, unzipping his pants. He enters you quickly and you wince, not even done swelling from the last boy.


	3. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last boy comes round and pats your belly, hugely swollen now. You’re hardly able to breathe because of the shirt still tied beneath your breasts, your huge globes draped over the shirt and resting on the top of your belly. Your belly is covered with sweat and cum, the skin so tight now that it’s extremely easy to see all of the movement within. The babies are agitated after so much quick growth. Feet kick all over and larger movement can be seen as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This appears to be the last of the related submissions.)
> 
> Original post: http://imagineyourepregnant.tumblr.com/post/143053952459/imagine-youre-a-pregnant-slave-but-youre-only-16

The last boy comes round and pats your belly, hugely swollen now. You’re hardly able to breathe because of the shirt still tied beneath your breasts, your huge globes draped over the shirt and resting on the top of your belly. Your belly is covered with sweat and cum, the skin so tight now that it’s extremely easy to see all of the movement within. The babies are agitated after so much quick growth. Feet kick all over and larger movement can be seen as well.

You sit on the toilet seat, legs spread, waiting for the next boy to come in. But one doesn’t come. The boy leaves you there tied up, the door to the stall open, but the group seems to have left. You place one hand on either side of your belly, trying to breathe through the bursts of swelling, rubbing the skin in an attempt to get your babies to calm down. The more you grow, the more awkward it is to sit on the toilet and the harder it is to breathe around the shirt. Your breasts start to leak milk, overfull and sensitive to the touch.

You feel your hair, sweaty and stuck to your temples. your whole body overheated and tight. You feel a pressure in your womb and know it’s going to lead to another growth spurt - there are simply too many babies inside of you now. You think this is the most there has ever been - you don’t even try to count. The teenage boys were voracious - sometimes coming back for seconds or even thirds.

“Hah, hah -” you gasp, moving your hands and legs uselessly as the skin of your belly grows so large that you can hardly see above it. The wall of flesh is constantly being pushed in different directions, the babies moving around, just trying to get space. The shelf of your breasts is pushed up as your belly grows, nipples dripping milk constantly now, some of it falling back onto your face.

You hear the final bell ring and the sound of students leaving classrooms to go home. You notice that no one comes into the last stall - no one comes looking for you at all. You moan, swelling again, begging your belly to stop. Finally, you hear two pairs of shoes approach your stall. You know the school has emptied now so you don’t know who it could be.

You can’t even see them until they’re right up next to you due to the sheer size of your belly. You wince as a particularly painful series of kicks hits the bottom of your womb - somewhere you can’t see. It’s two of the brothers. One of them reaches out to stroke your battered skin, the flesh so sensitive it causes you to clench your eyes shut.

“You didn’t come home on the bus,” one of the brothers says. “You made us come here to pick you up. You inconvenienced us.”

“I-i’m snngh-sorry,” you choke out, trying to breathe beneath the pressure of your still swelling orbs.

“You’ve been having fun without us,” the other brother says.

You try to apologize again but he covers your mouth with his hand.

“You’re ours. Do you understand?” he asks.

He lifts his hand off your mouth.

“Y-yes,” you say.

“Yes…?”

“Yes, hah, m-master,” you amend.

He reaches beneath your skirt and rubs against your nub, causing you to grasp your belly. Your mouth opens, rivers of milk pouring over your belly. He doesn’t enter you, just keeps rubbing, over and over, while you swell until you cry out, trying to move but still tied to the toilet.

“We’re leaving,” he says, and reaches around the pole to untie you. You’re naked from the waist up and unable to move - you’re simply too heavy and the babies too large.

One brother grabs under each of your shoulders, lifting you up and carrying most of your weight. Your gigantic belly arches out before you, the bottom of it brushing the floor even when you’re standing at full height. You have to walk with your legs spread, your belly so huge it falls between your legs. Your breasts fall around your belly,now, too fat and full of milk to rest atop it. They slosh back and forth as the brothers drag you from the school, each slap of the skin on your belly causing you to wince and milk to come spurting from your nipples.

They bring you outside and to the parking lot, where they only brought their red two-seater pickup truck.

“We have to run a few errands.“

The brother opens the truck and together - both of them carrying your weight, they shove you in the back of the truck with the dog crates. You stare lay on your back, wheezing and moaning. They start the car up and the rumbles shake all of your orbs. You stare up at the black night sky, moaning as your belly swells even further.

"Please, nngh, please s-stop,” you beg your own belly.

As the truck rounds a corner and you’re flung from one side of the truck bed to another, your belly tightens down, answering your prayers. You’re simply too overfull. Some of these babies need to be birthed whether you like it or not.


End file.
